


White Noise

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sacrifice, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Immediately, Wedge starts trembling all over, his legs feeling suddenly as weak as a newborn bantha's. Tycho can't be – hecan'tbe –





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).



> Betsy sent me an angst prompt for yesterday's comment_fic theme: that the reason we don't see Tycho in canon is because he died on a mission pre-ESB, after he and Wedge were already close. Why do I ask for these things? TT_TT

Wedge keeps trying to decide what the proper way to welcome Tycho back from this mission should be. Their relationship is so new, and though most of their squadmates know about it, he doesn't want to embarrass either of them or make things awkward.

For instance, when Tycho comes down the ladder from his X-wing's cockpit, is Wedge allowed to kiss him? Should he stick to a hug? Or should he just play it cool, maybe offer a backslap or a friendly hand on the shoulder, save anything else for when they're alone?

Wedge sighs. This wouldn't be a problem if they'd both been sent on the mission, but the patrol had only required half of the squadron, and Wedge had ended up staying on the ship.

He still hasn't made up his mind by the time the Rogues' return time has nearly rolled around. Screw it, he decides as he finds a place in the hangar to wait. Maybe he'll just let Tycho take the lead, then reciprocate whatever he does.

Luke's ship is the first to reenter the hangar, sporting a few new patches of carbon scoring but otherwise looking none the worse for wear. Hobbie is next, then Wes, then there's a gap in the formation, though Wedge can see more X-wings in the distance. He's growing impatient; he wants to see Tycho, to hear from him how the mission went. To spend more time with him in general.

Dack and Zev join the others, and Wedge peers out the magcon field, still looking for Tycho. He's smiling slightly now; of course Tycho would have volunteered to bring up the rear and make sure everyone else got home okay first.

Except Wedge doesn't see him anywhere, and now his heart is starting to pound. That carbon scoring on Luke's snubfighter – there must have been trouble. But no. There are a dozen reasons Tycho wouldn't be with the rest of them. He had to take a separate route or he had mechanical trouble or he punched out in battle and they'll need to send someone back for him...

But when Wedge's eyes dart back across the hangar, catch Luke having climbed out of his ship and now coming toward him, sees the look on his face – he _knows_.

Immediately, he starts trembling all over, his legs feeling suddenly as weak as a newborn bantha's. Tycho can't be – he _can't_ be –

Luke reaches him, and the hand that lands on Wedge's arm, comforting, steadying, feels like a burn. “I'm sorry, Wedge,” are the first words out of his mouth.

Wedge collapses. He's distantly grateful Luke manages to catch him and deposit him atop a nearby ammunitions box. He can't process much through the sudden roaring in his ears. Tycho is – he's –

Wedge should have been there. He should have volunteered to go on the patrol, let someone else stay behind. If he'd been there, he might have been able to save him. He'll never know, but he'll never be rid of the thought, he already knows that.

 _Tycho_. Wedge is never going to see his subtle smile again or hold his hand or lay next to him. He can feel something in his chest breaking apart, and he thinks maybe it's his future. With Tycho, he'd been starting to see one for himself, something aside from all the endless fighting. Now it's gone.

Luke is speaking, the odd word catching Wedge's ear – _sacrifice_ , _brave_ , _saved us all_ – but he can't take in the whole. He can't understand yet what exactly happened, can't bear to listen. Not when the loss itself is so big he can't begin to swallow it.

“Wedge, hey, look at me.”

Wedge blinks away tears, forces himself to look up at his friend. Luke looks pained, too, and of course, why shouldn't he? Tycho was his friend. Wedge feels a sudden stab of guilt at his selfishness. Behind Luke, standing a little ways away to give them privacy are the rest, a cluster of somber orange, and Wedge wishes they weren't watching.

“I need you to understand at least this part, okay?” Luke says sincerely. “Can you do that? Just focus on me for a minute?”

Wedge forces himself to nod, beats down the grief that threatens to overwhelm him so he can try to take in Luke's words.

“He knew, at the end. He knew he wasn't going to make it back; he made the choice to let the rest of us get out. And he was thinking about you, too, Wedge.” Luke squeezes his arm, hard. “He told us to tell you he was sorry. And he said he knew you would understand he did the right thing.”

Wedge bows his head, unable to hold back tears anymore. Even now, he knows this. He knows Tycho was brave and good, and though he doesn't know the whole story, he believes Tycho did what he had to. And to know that Wedge was in his mind in that moment, that Tycho knew this would hurt him and regretted that...

It's too much. Wedge presses his hands over his face, wetness flowing between his fingers, and lets everything around him dissolve into white noise.


End file.
